


cotton

by Xine



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Frottage, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Retracting Alien Penis, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xine/pseuds/Xine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hits Leonard as a rushing wave flooding towards his abdomen and he knows the sensation is felt similarly by the other two, watching the way Jim’s gaze becomes half-lidded and his fingers slowly drag along Spock’s. “What do you think of the good doctor’s gown, Mr. Spock?”</p>
<p>(Wherein Leonard receives a blue chemise dress and is given some special treatment from his partners.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	cotton

Truly, he doesn't know what to make of it.

Pinching the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger, Leonard lifts the dress from his side and bends over to peer at his legs, the hem sneaking up to his hips until the matching pair of underwear peeks from underneath. He purses his lips, letting the cloth go and watching it curtain at his mid-thigh as artificial gravity pulls it back down.

Looking down at himself, Leonard can clearly tell that the dress was not made with people of his body type in mind. The chest is too spacious, straps hanging from his shoulders loosely while the breast cups droop forward almost dejectedly. The rest of it is relaxed and free-flowing, yet it rests over his stomach so flatly that his hips poke against the fabric in a way that he can only describe as bony.

He's thankful Jim doesn't keep a mirror in his quarters — particularly a full-length one — so he can't see if he looks as ridiculous as he feels. He can’t bring himself to seek out the bathroom mirror.

Really, where the hell did Jim even get this idea? A better question would be where he got the piece of lingerie — if he can even call it that, because he's not sure if it's actually just a slightly sexy nightgown — in the first place. Leonard knows he's skinnier than most, but Jim, that sly devil, could have gotten knowledge of his clothing sizes easily to find him a dress that actually fits.

Dropping his arm back to his side, he looks to the floor and at the haphazardly folded pile made of his Sickbay uniform, the sheen of the shirt's fabric reflecting slightly underneath the emerald light of the captain's quarters.

Midway through his final shift, Jim stopped by Leonard's office, stepping into the offshoot area with a smirk pulling at his lips and a glint shining in his eyes. "Come to my quarters tonight," he said, leaning against Leonard's desk with a flattened hand splayed over the top. "It's been a long day, and I'd like to spoil you."

Leonard found himself mirroring Jim's grin almost instantly, dropping the stylus onto the datapad and sitting back in his chair. "Spoil me, huh?" He tilted his head and folded his hands in his lap, continuing, "Just you, or will Spock be joining us?"

Jim opted to not answer the question, only letting his smile grow a bit wider before pushing himself off the desk and turning away. He couldn't see it, but Leonard rolled his eyes and let out a quiet scoff at Jim as his green-clothed back disappeared out the archway. 

When he arrived at Jim's door a few hours later, he was met with no response from the other side. Glancing down both ends of the hall and seeing no one, he elected to let himself inside.

He's been on Jim's admittance list for a while, but if anyone caught him "trespassing", he'd say he used his medical clearance to slip past the lock, perhaps even make an excuse about searching for Jim's hidden candy stashes.

The three of them aren't exactly open about the nature of their relationship, and for now they'd like to keep it that way.

On Jim's desk, propped against the monitor, sat a silvery gift box tied closed with a cornflower ribbon. It was unusual, and initially Leonard was unsure if it was meant for him until a slip of cardstock beside it caught his eye.

_Always thought you look best in blue,_ the off-white paper read in Jim's wide scrawl.

And it was only after unraveling the silk ribbon and lifting the lid from the box did Leonard discover what that mischievous glimmer in Jim's gaze meant.

If this was part of Jim's idea of spoiling him, he couldn't imagine how lingerie had ever become something either of his partners would think he'd latch onto with enthusiasm. He finds himself feeling lost, having no certainty as to what exactly Jim had set him up for, if Spock was also involved in this is some way, and why a cotton skirt had come into play at all.

Grabbing his uniform off the ground, Leonard resolves that he'll keep the dress on, if only to see Jim's reaction to it. He got it for some specific reason, and Leonard is intent on figuring out just what that reason is.

As he packs his shirt and trousers into the gift box, the swish of the door and a trail of muted footsteps sound behind him. He straightens his posture and warm hands slide onto his hips, a solid chest pressing against his back.

"I see you opened your gift," Jim says, his lips ghosting over Leonard's shoulder as he speaks. “Do you like it?”

Leonard can’t stop the laugh that tumbles out his throat, turning his neck to look over his shoulder. Jim is but a blur of browns in his peripheral vision. “I look absurd,” he replies, touching the back of Jim’s left hand with his own, tracing the pads of his fingers over a pair of knuckles.

A gust of air spreads at his neck and chills travel down his spine, Jim’s right hand lowering to slink underneath the skirt. He caresses Leonard’s bare stomach as he says, “I think you look quite alluring.” His hand splays across the soft dip below Leonard’s sternum, palm unbearably warm. A beat of silence settles before he asks, voice less flirtatious and more tender, “You don’t like it, do you, Bones?”

Leonard relaxes at the sound of his nickname, resting his weight onto Jim as he guides Jim’s other hand over to his belly, pulling him closer. He weaves their fingers together, interlocking them. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” he starts, leaning his head back. “I’m simply wondering why you couldn’t get one that at least fits.”

Even if he can’t see it clearly, Leonard can tell Jim’s lips have stretched back into a smile, Jim’s nose pressed against the slope of his neck as he takes in a deep breath. “Thought I did.”

"You have clearance to go into my quarters any time you please. My uniform, my clothes all have sizing labels."

Jim laughs. "Oh, I wouldn't dare go through your things without your permission. I’m afraid that if I did, you'd change my diet card to nothing but salad for a month as punishment."

A chuckle emanates deep in Leonard's chest. "Maybe not for an entire month."

Untangling their fingers, Leonard carefully twists his body around in Jim’s embrace, wanting to get a look at him for the first time since their exchange in Sickbay.

Thinking on it briefly, he hasn’t really seen Jim or Spock all day, not including the short lunch they shared in the mess hall.

Usually he’ll pop in at the Bridge to get a glimpse of whatever space disaster is awaiting them next — and to have an excuse to see the two people he, sometimes begrudgingly, considers to be his most cherished — but was unable to. He had been buried all day with routine checkups of the crew and the subsequent paperwork that he hardly left Sickbay, resorting to eating dinner at his desk while he worked.

Once Jim had left his office, he noticed just how uplifting his visit had been, and how much he needed to see at least one of his partners — even if only for a few moments — to feel at ease in the endless void that is deep space.

Jim is here now, though, and the tedium of an entire day of paperwork that was clinging to his mind has since fallen away.

It’s strange having to look just slightly up to meet Jim’s soft gaze, the heels in his uniform boots giving him an unusual advantage in height. A shame, really. He’s always liked his captain being the shorter one; it makes him cuter.

Leonard wraps his arms around Jim’s waist and folds his hands over each other at the small of his back. With a raise of his brow he says, “You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

The corners of Jim’s lips curl up softly, forming into a smile reserved for whenever he decides he wants to play the clueless card, one Leonard has seen many times in the past. “And what question would that be?” he replies almost innocently, enfolding Leonard around the shoulders.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Jim-boy,” he retorts without malice, drawing out the nickname in an effort to tease, if only to rid Jim of that insufferable expression. “If Spock is included in this little adventure of ours, I can’t fathom where his interest in it would lie.”

It works and Jim’s feigned obliviousness turns into a genuine, toothy grin.

Whenever Jim’s eyes crinkle — like they're doing right now — the hazel glow of his irises darken into a rich russet, and it reminds Leonard of a mind meld he shared with Spock months ago, of the way Spock’s naked soul pictured their captain’s beaming grin like the rising sun on a chilly morning.

He isn't sure if there is a better way to describe James T. Kirk, their Jim, than as a man who carries the warmth and brightness of a glowing star.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out,” Jim mumbles, tipping his head forward and trapping Leonard’s mouth with his own. Complaisant without a moment of hesitance, Leonard’s eyes fall shut, feeling the heat build up across his chest when Jim’s tongue prods at him to part his lips. So, he does.

It doesn’t take long before both of them begin to explore with their hands, Jim breaking the embrace to return his palms’ back to their place underneath the blue dress, Leonard bringing his fingers to work at the clasp holding the wrapped tunic together. The tip of a middle finger skims across Leonard’s nipple and he separates from the kiss to breathe.

Jim wastes no time, bringing his lips forward again to peck a trail along Leonard’s jaw down to his neck. When his shirt begins to unravel and Leonard plunges hungry hands into the garment right after, Jim lets out a nearly inaudible whine, reveling in the texture of his partner’s trained, weathered palms caressing his skin.

Practically groping at Jim's breast just to feel him, to return the sensations burning behind his sternum, Leonard pulls the shirt fully open in a haze, distracted by the suckling Jim has taken upon his throat. Burying his face in soft, brown tresses at Jim’s temple, Leonard strokes downward, following the subtle bumps and dips of Jim's abs until his fingers meet the hem of uniform pants.

He doesn't get the chance to get underneath them before Jim's spare hand has found itself between his legs, palming his hardening dick through cotton underwear. Leonard's hips roll forward—

The door chimes.

The interruption doesn't make Jim pause in the slightest, instead easily maintaining the pressure he has cupping Leonard's groin. Leonard, however, finds himself freezing in place, air halting inside his lungs and his eyes shooting open to stare at the doorway.

When Jim pulls away from his neck to quickly call out, "It's open," a surge of panic bubbles inside of Leonard. 

Within a split second, he becomes almost entirely detached from the pleasure in exchange of rising anger as he attempts to disentangle himself from his compromising position with the ship's captain. "Good god, Jim, are you crazy?! That could be anyone and you just—"

In the middle of his tumbling cluster of indignant cries, the door slides open with a pronounced whoosh and the lights from the hall give shape to the figure stepping inside. Leonard whips his head to stare over Jim’s shoulder, skin flushed a deep pink, eyes wide like a startled prey animal unable to flee, arms fully stretched forward to push a nonchalant Jim away like he was made of fire.

"Do not worry, Doctor," comes the calm reply. The door slides closed as quickly as it had opened, and Spock stands plainly in front of it, hands tucked away behind his back. "The captain was fully aware I was on my way here." 

Leonard lets out a heavy sigh of relief, the tension dissipating from his body and his limbs going slack. Jim steps closer to hold him up when Leonard pitches forward, planting his forehead on Jim's shoulder with a loose grip on both sides of the opened captain's tunic.

"Bones," Jim starts, sheepish yet still highly amused as he wraps his arms around his exasperated CMO. "I would never risk something like that unless I knew it was Spock at the door."

Though muffled into Jim's shirt, the other two can hear Leonard just fine when he says, "You two will be the death of me."

Jim brings Leonard closer until their bodies are flush together and gives him a squeeze, laughing all the while. Spock approaches both of them, untucking his hands to place one on Leonard’s arm, a gesture that serves to simultaneously comfort his partner and request him to raise his head.

He does, his face holding a myriad of conflicting emotions, but the most prominent one of all being relieved ease. As Jim loosens his grasp around Leonard, he turns towards Spock and raises two straightened fingers. Spock meets them with his own easily, and with all three of their bodies joined with even the slightest skin-to-skin contact, through the bond they are overcome with the feeling of love, contentment, and also—

It hits Leonard as a rushing wave flooding towards his abdomen and he knows the sensation is felt similarly by the other two, watching the way Jim’s gaze becomes half-lidded and his fingers slowly drag along Spock’s. Their beloved Vulcan’s expression shifts only at the micro level, the tautness of his brows going soft, lips parting just slightly. Spock’s grip around Leonard’s arm drifts downward until he’s cradling the elbow gingerly.

“What do you think of the good doctor’s gown, Mr. Spock?” Jim asks lowly, curling his fingers around Spock’s. Leonard glances at their captain when he speaks before turning back to Spock to await his response, reaching out to touch his hip.

“It is...” he begins, caught in a rare instance of uncertainty for the right words as he drinks in the sight of Leonard, bare-shouldered and cascaded in green and blue light. It gives Leonard a little selfish enjoyment at witnessing Spock stumble if only for a moment, and he lets a smirk pull at his lips. “Greatly appealing.”

“I told him something very similar,” Jim replies, gracefully turning toward Leonard, whose nape he moves to hold gently. “But Bones doesn’t seem to agree.”

Leonard’s grin falters and before he can come up with a response, Spock speaks ahead of him. “The doctor has hardly agreed with our assessments of his physical attractiveness in the past, as illogical it may be to do so.”

Leonard inhales sharply. His humbleness regarding his looks is not a topic he wishes to have analyzed logically at any time, let alone when he’s wearing a dress that hardly reaches past his ass. “Now, listen—”

“Bones,” Jim interrupts. “You’re gorgeous. Don’t fight with us about that.”

He feels the heat rush across his face instantaneously, unable to maintain any frustration at his partners after being called something as flattering as _gorgeous._ Jim knows fully well how Leonard reacts to genuine compliments, and Leonard certainly doesn’t fail expectations when he looks away to hide his face in embarrassment. Mentally, he chides himself for behaving like an abstinent teenager.

“We were very successful in our gift selection, especially in the color. Wouldn’t you agree, Spock?” Jim asks freely, his tone carrying the same casualness as he would on the Bridge, relaxed and prideful.

“I would,” Spock says, pushing lightly at Leonard’s elbow to nudge him to face forward again. A brief flash of delight touches Spock’s features when he sees that the pink flush is still coloring Leonard’s cheekbones, extending most vibrantly onto the tips of his ears. “This particular shade of blue emphasizes his eyes in a remarkably pleasant way.”

Leonard bites his lip briefly to relieve himself of the tingle of embarrassment flooding his body. It hardly works. “So, you were involved in this...” he begins but trails off lamely, nodding briefly towards his own body in substitution.

Jim's beaming smile is so wide it looks like it's about to split his face in two. With his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth along the bump behind Leonard’s left ear, he says, “Not just involved. It was actually Spock who suggested lingerie.”

It takes a moment for the words to register, but once they finally dawn upon him, Leonard’s mouth falls slightly agape. He looks between Spock and Jim a few times — Jim horribly proud of his first officer, Spock looking almost as blank as ever if it wasn’t for the subtle tightness around his eyes, as if he was smiling without upturning his lips — before settling to stare at the sexy dress culprit. “Wait, this was your idea?”

From the way Spock lifts his brow, the question comes across as peculiar, as if his venture in erotic nightwear shouldn’t be the least bit surprising. “Indeed.”

A silence falls over the three of them.

Leonard doesn’t know whether to feel bewildered or impressed.

Jim quickly leans in to land a kiss on the corner of Leonard’s mouth, then lets go of his grip on both of his partners before turning towards Spock. “Do you need to change?”

“No,” Spock replies with a slight nod, “I do not require privacy.”

Jim pauses, giving him a look that seems both amused and curious. “Very well,” he says, also pecking Spock on the cheek before turning away. He shrugs off his wrap tunic and hangs it over his arm as he heads for his dresser, opening the top drawer and taking out a similar gift box as Leonard’s, adorned with a yellow ribbon.

Spock and Leonard watch him until he disappears into the bathroom doorway, then meeting each other's gazes as if in synchronization. Softly, Leonard thinks that they probably are, the bond reinforced by their close proximity, Leonard’s hand resting on Spock’s hip, Spock’s holding Leonard’s elbow. There’s a sensation akin to electricity flowing into his skin and his mind instantly recognizes it as _comfort_.

He takes in the feeling like a sponge, gratified in Spock’s silent yet still spoken honesty of his emotions — a concept Leonard once thought was psychologically impossible for someone so dedicated to Vulcan philosophy — and finds himself becoming more centered, more solid in his own feelings.

Still, the confusion is not gone, and the most nagging question now is where the hell Spock got this idea.

“Spock, I must know.” Leonard slides his hand from its place on Spock’s hip to press flat against the small of his back. “Why in the blazes did you think of putting me in a dress?”

Spock matches the shift by running his fingers along Leonard’s arm until he's resting his palm over his shoulder blades.

There’s a natural gravity that pulls Spock in as he takes a step forward, movements careful and deliberate so he may face Leonard properly. The lights glowing above their heads illuminates Spock in a way that makes his features sharper, lengthening his face and casting heavy shadows over his eyes.

Leonard wonders how he got so lucky — Spock and Jim are so often painfully beautiful.

The mildness of Spock's voice, however, belies the harsh contrasts painted upon his face. "While the captain and I were conversing over a game of chess four evenings ago, he expressed a desire to ‘try something new,’ as he put it."

Leonard snickers. "And skirts were your first thought?" Most definitely a facetious question, but he feels like doing some of own playful prodding, especially if it’s Spock whose buttons he gets to push.

Spock's brows rise. "On the contrary," he says, slowly separating from Leonard, almost as if it was physically difficult to do so. He walks around him, taking a couple long-legged strides to the guest chair beside Jim’s desk and sitting upon it. Leonard follows with his eyes, crossing his arms and noting the pleasant sensation of the dress twirling around his thighs as he turns. Perhaps the gown is growing on him.

Bending over to unzip his boot, Spock continues, “My first suggestion was to play Go in place of chess.” He pulls off a boot, then pausing to look up at Leonard. “As he did not preface the statement, I was not immediately aware the captain was talking of our intimate relationship.”

Leonard smiles. “Of course. Why would you?”

Spock tilts his head — the equivalent of a mirrored smile — clearly understanding the rhetorical and humorous nature of the question, then moving to remove the other shoe. “After clarification, I ruminated with him over what activities and aids humans often seek when desiring ‘something new’ and...” He takes off the boot, then goes on. “The captain took the most interest in my suggestion of stimulating attire.”

“Truth be told, I’m surprised,” Leonard says, stepping closer and shifting his weight onto one leg, jutting his hip out to one side. “I didn’t think you would also be interested in ‘stimulating attire.’”

“Is that so, Doctor?” Spock sets the pair aside under the desk, then hooks his fingers under his shirt. Pulling both the tunic and the undershirt over his head in one smooth motion, his hair gets caught in the collar as it passes, and Leonard watches the silky strands fall perfectly back into place as if they hadn’t been disturbed at all.

Leonard gazes at Spock’s pale skin, following the light trail of hair down towards his stomach—

_Wait._

Spock stands, folding the tunic as he rises and placing it on the floor by his boots. Oblivious to Leonard’s dumbfounded stare, Spock works at the clasp of his trousers, unbuttoning and then pulling them down, revealing the rest of the high-waisted garter belt clinging to his hips.

Spock may not be stripping in a manner that would be considered tantalizing — he hasn’t quite mastered the unusual intricacies of human foreplay yet — but the steady removal of his pants exposing the black garters underneath them is making the room feel much, much hotter.

The pants fall to the floor in a heap and Spock steps out of them casually. The sheer stockings shaping his legs give his lanky form an elegance that his uniform couldn’t dream of doing. He picks them up, folds them as he had his tunic, and turns to set them atop the shirt, bending over—

Leonard’s about to burst. A moan erupts from his throat, strangled.

The trousers drop with a muted thud as they fall out of Spock’s hand, and when he straightens his posture he looks at Leonard curiously. His expression may try to appear inculpable in inciting such a reaction, but Leonard knows better.

“My god, Spock, are you trying to kill me?”

Spock doesn’t get the chance to entertain the question before Leonard’s right up against him, guiding him toward the wall opposite the desk until Spock’s back is against it, grasping both sides of his face and kissing him with fervor. He’s still for a brief pause — not expecting such a passionate reaction from such a passionate individual, perhaps foolishly so — but soon responds similarly, slipping an arm around Leonard’s middle and pressing a hand over his breastbone.

Leonard groans against his mouth, sliding a leg between Spock’s knees and grinding against his thigh to get something, some friction after Jim got him riled up and then nearly gave him a heart attack with his and Spock’s stunt earlier.

Honestly, these two manage to terrify him regardless of the situation on a regular basis, including getting themselves to the point of near death too often to be considered remotely acceptable. He shouldn’t be surprised when they drag the same recklessness into their domestic life, whether it’s on purpose or not.

He loves them dearly, though. There’s no denying that.

Spock pulls back from the kiss, then angles his head to the side and leans forward once more, dragging his tongue along Leonard’s lower lip. Leonard opens his mouth, licking at Spock’s tongue with his own, which captures Spock by surprise if only by the slightest amount. Spock’s fingers slide down Leonard’s chest, caressing him lazily, tracing each rung of his ribcage through the soft cotton of the blue dress. Their lips lock, and when Spock just slightly swipes at the roof of Leonard’s mouth, Leonard feels his knees go a bit weak.

So absorbed in how hot Spock’s skin feels on his own, Leonard jumps a little when he feels a second pair of hands slowly sliding onto his body, lips pressing onto the back of his neck. Him and Spock part with a small smacking sound, Leonard panting heavily to catch his breath. He hadn’t even heard the bathroom door open.

“Don’t be so sneaky, Jim,” Leonard gripes whilst unconsciously pressing back into the warmth of Jim’s form. His hands fall from Spock’s face to settle on his shoulders.

Jim chuckles and Leonard can feel the light rumble of the laugh against his spine. “Was I being sneaky?” He looks to Spock, hugging Leonard snugly from behind, pressing his hips firmly against him and rolling them just slightly. His reward is a sweet sigh that falls through Leonard’s lips.

“As I was preoccupied, I also did not hear your approach, Jim.” Spock places his hand atop one of Jim’s. “Leonard is not being inaccurate.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim mutters and punctuates the apology with a kiss on Leonard’s shoulder. With another grinding of his hips, he asks, “How can I make it up to you both?”

Leonard’s eyes fall closed and he lolls his head back, moving his hips along to the oscillating motion, rubbing himself onto Spock’s thigh with each roll. Still breathless, he says, “I’m sure you already have an idea.”

"I do."

Tentatively, Spock ducks his head to lick at a dip in Leonard’s neck, gliding the tip of his tongue over the taut muscles. Jim continues to writhe against him, his breath quickening gradually, letting out the occasional moan when he grinds upward in just the right way and hears Leonard react in kind. 

Combined with the pressure pushing up at his dick from Spock’s thigh, Jim’s incessant rolling causes Leonard to tremble in anticipation, and he reaches behind himself to grab at Jim’s side. His fingers grip around a meshy material, and amidst the haze he asks Jim what he is wearing.

Spock answers for him, speaking lowly in between each caress with his lips over Leonard's jaw and chin. "It is a robe that I had selected for Jim. The material is notably sheer, so I also gifted it with the corresponding undergarments." A kiss on the lips, gentle yet wet. "Jim also chose my attire."

Jim hums at that just loud enough for Leonard to hear over his own gasping breaths. Leonard reaches downward to find the bottom hem of the robe, skimming his fingertips over the lace trimming of the underwear and the soft skin of Jim's buttock. The robe is... very short.

He looks down at his body caught tightly by a pair of thick arms clothed in cream-colored mesh, loose sleeves ending just past the wrist, cuffs billowing into a rounded frill around Jim’s palms. It’s quite cute, really.

"You both have—" Leonard moans at Spock lifting his thigh to meet his thrusts. "—made favorable gift decisions. Even if I can only really feel Jim's."

Jim makes a sound that is caught between a laugh and a groan, so he slows down to speak clearly. "I'd be glad to model it after we're done," he offers, equal parts joking and serious.

Both Leonard and Spock nod in agreement — Leonard huffing out a little laugh as well — and continue to rut against each other in tune to Jim's slowed pace. They fall into the rhythm easily, a tangle of limbs holding on for purchase as they writhe together against the wall. Leonard feels like he’s close to melting.

Then, pulling his arm off from it's place around Leonard's waist, Spock delves his fingers into Leonard's baby blue briefs and wraps them around his dick with little warning.

A choked gasp is the sound that stumbles out of Leonard's mouth, limbs going tense and his gut twisting at the touch. Spock pulls him out of the underwear, stroking him languidly underneath the chemise and listening for every hitch in Leonard’s breath.

Leonard digs his fingers hard into Spock’s shoulder and the worry of hurting him leaves as soon as it came when Spock gives him a nice squeeze. Spock’s gaze is dark as he stares back at Leonard, who can only return the look for so long before the sensations make him toss his head back onto Jim’s shoulder again.

The grip around him is firm, yet the speed at which Spock is tugging at him is so agonizingly slow — slower than Jim’s rolling thrusts — that Leonard can only shiver, letting out a stifled moan when Spock circles his thumb around the head after a few pumps along his shaft. He wants to complain at the teasing he’s on the receiving end of, but he can’t find the energy in his body to do it.

They just love to torture him so.

Behind him he can hear Jim letting out a few gasps and the smile on his face is evident, even if Leonard unable to see it. The arms around his waist loosening and pulling back, Jim settles his hands flat against his torso before moving upward, pulling the dress up and uncovering Leonard’s dick in Spock’s steady grip.

“Bones,” Jim breathes suddenly into his ear, “I want to be inside you.”

“Please.” The word comes out hoarse, but he doesn’t wait for a single second to plead. “Oh, my god, please.”

A hand remains on Leonard’s hip when Jim pulls his body away, but the lack of solid warmth pressing onto his back makes Leonard moan ruefully, the tips of his fingers searching for the leg that disappears from under his touch. In the absence he feels lips grazing over his chin, and when he brings his head forward, he’s met with that intense stare one more, his face so close to Spock that their noses touch.

Jim doesn’t take long to return his other hand back to Leonard’s skin, snaking his fingers underneath the gown to hook his thumbs onto the waistband of the seamless underwear. As Jim tugs the thin cloth down, Leonard feels both the texture of calloused skin and the smoothness of a small bottle slide over his thighs. 

Leonard resettles the emptied hand back onto Jim’s hip, skimming the fabric of the robe with shaky digits. With his right hand, Leonard drags his palm along the length of Spock’s torso, sliding past the front panel of the garter belt and cupping the smooth mound of Spock’s pubic bone before plunging his fingers into the lacy thong.

When Leonard wedges a finger between the folds of the sheath, Spock sighs through his nose and flutters his eyes closed, his hand halting in its motions as Leonard rubs back and forth along the long slit. At the same time, Jim clicks the bottle closed, tucks it into the side of his underwear, and smears the lube onto Leonard’s hole with his wet middle finger, and Leonard involuntarily pushes back at the sensation.

Jim steadies Leonard by holding onto his hip as he works, drawing small circles with the pad of his finger whilst Leonard busies himself with coaxing his way into Spock’s sheath. A thick, transparent fluid covers Leonard’s fingers as he pushes inside to find the head, eliciting the smallest of mewling sounds from the back of Spock’s throat. He drinks in the sound with the finest of satisfaction.

Once Spock starts to stroke him again, Leonard finds himself craving more. “Jim, I can’t— I can’t wait anymore,” he says, tightening his grip on the robe, his legs trembling.

Jim takes his clean hand and grips Leonard’s arm, lifting it and slinging it over his shoulders. Leonard’s body twists at the waist to hold onto Jim comfortably, arching his back and jutting his chest forward. It catches Spock’s attention in the fog of being fingered and he runs his unoccupied palm under the dress, soaking in the heat bleeding from Leonard’s stomach.

Bringing his fingers to Leonard’s jaw, Jim nudges his partner to look at him, running his thumb along Leonard’s plump lower lip as he does so. “I don’t tell you enough,” Jim mutters, reading each little feature of Leonard’s face, “about how pretty you are.”

He slowly, carefully pushes the digit inside, and Leonard’s moan is muffled by Jim’s lips kissing him horribly tenderly. Leonard shuts his eyes closed, try as he must to focus on Jim’s mouth on his.

Despite readying himself for it — begging for it, even — he struggles to relax and let the part enter him fully, the distraction of Jim’s tongue caressing his not being enough.

Spock can sense this — Leonard knows he can, having learned the hard way in the past that it’s difficult to break the emotional transference of a bond like theirs — and so he pushes forward, continuing his earlier ministrations on the hollow of Leonard’s throat.

It helps, and soon Jim is able sink his middle finger in as far as it can go, pulling it out after hooking it inside to scrape at the inner walls two or three times. He repeats this motion over and over, acclimating Leonard’s body to the sensation, getting a little bit faster each time he pushes inside.

Leonard is thankful that Jim is holding him up, because he fears his knees would buckle from underneath him if he wasn’t.

He tries to keep his tempo inside Spock’s folds, feeling the tapered head hiding within between his two knuckles as he urges it out, but his pace becomes jerky and uneven as he succumbs to Jim’s pumping. Jim lets go of Leonard’s face and takes a brief moment to apply more lubricant to his hand, coating his pointer finger with a liberal amount.

The second joins the first and is pulled in with little resistance.

Leonard breaks his kiss with Jim to gasp, growing steadily overwhelmed by all the spots on his body being touched so sweetly — Jim’s tender lips on his, the set of digits gingerly thrusting in and out of him and the other returning to push his hair back, Spock’s tongue exploring his neck with careful precision, one hand wringing his dick in deliberate strokes and the other steadying him on his belly.

He opens his eyes once more and stares at the wide collar of his captain’s robe in a haze, carding his fingers through Jim’s short hair and mussing it up. Burning in his gut is the pleasure building up inside, like an expanding singularity ready to burst. Any more of this and that’s exactly what he’ll end up doing.

“Spock,” he chokes out.

He looks up from Leonard’s collarbone, his cheeks stained the color of muted jade. “I need you to— stop for a bit.” Jim places a kiss on the bridge of Leonard’s nose, unrelenting in his own prodding. Leonard moans again before continuing, “I’m so close already.”

Spock stops immediately, loosening his grip around the swollen shaft. He licks his lips, slightly bucking onto Leonard’s hand with each thrust, the black underwear long having been soaked through with slick. “What would you rather have me do, Leonard?”

Panting, Leonard scans the length of Spock’s body, his search carrying his eyes over to the arm hidden beneath his dress. “Give me your hand,” he requests.

Spock takes his hand out from under the gown and brings it to Leonard’s face, his eyes glazing over at the foreknowledge of what is to be done with it. As Leonard curls his digits inside the wet sheath, he opens his mouth and takes in two of Spock’s fingers between his lips, sliding his tongue against them and licking at the webbing.

Jim watches them both as he stretches Leonard open bit by bit, relishes in the gasps he earns for his efforts. Pumping lubricant again on his hand, he prepares to add one more digit, the tightness of his own underwear becoming too much to bear.

The two of them hold each other’s gaze, Spock observing with his teeth clenched as Leonard sucks on him, Leonard’s brows furrowed upward whilst moaning around the long fingers. In his hold, Leonard feels Spock shaking, the breath that sneaks past his lips coming out as a shuddering sigh.

Quickly, after grazing the pads of Spock’s fingers with his teeth, Leonard senses the rounded tip of Spock’s dick poking at his palm, the glans finally peeking out from the sheath. Within a few moments, he has to pull his hand out for the organ to emerge fully, it’s bright jade color greatly contrasted by the darks of Spock’s lingerie.

“Leonard,” Spock says suddenly, his voice hoarse and gravelly, “I do not think I could endure much more of this myself.” He pulls his hand out from Leonard’s mouth with a soundly pop, threads of saliva glistening over his skin under the dim lights. 

Grabbing hold of Leonard’s hand soaked in slick, he assesses it before making his decision and begins to lick the fluid off in an attempt to clean it up. He moans at the sight, and in his ear he hears Jim let out a whine, too.

Leonard turns his head to face Jim once more, his chest heaving. "Bones, can I?" Jim asks, a third finger teasing at the hole, waiting. Leonard nods, closing his eyes, concentrating.

"We're almost there," says Jim as he pushes inside with three fingers pressed together into a single point. They slide in so easily, and Leonard absentmindedly observes this as he exhales one long, strained breath.

It's rare for him to feel so eager, so starved for the feeling of Jim sinking into him until there's no more left of him to give, but here he stands, meeting Jim's every thrust with a shove of his hips backward. He usually finds penetration to require too much work, yet now is a prime example of the rarity of it all as he wants fewer things in this moment more than to have Jim's dick in him.

_How crude,_ he thinks.

Everything feels too hot — too much. The suckling sounds Spock makes around his fingers could be considered downright vulgar as he licks them clean, and the hard erection pressing against his buttock is a reminder of how much Jim has gone without being touched himself.

Jim pushes into Leonard as far as he can with the limited length of his fingers, leaving stray kisses along any bit of skin he can reach with his lips — his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, his ears, the corner of his mouth, the edge of his nose — as he watches Spock slip his tongue between each digit. Leonard breathes heavily, growing impatient of being unable to stroke Jim, his hands as preoccupied as they are.

Spock finishes his handiwork, his ears having flushed a deep green as he pulls the fingers out of his mouth. He holds Leonard’s hand, deliberately weaving and unweaving his fingers with Leonard’s own, knitting his brows together as he focuses on the meticulous pattern. Leonard tries to follow, watching each movement and attempting to mirror it.

Jim begins to hook his fingers upward with every thrust, searching for that particular spot that makes Leonard’s dick leak. When he does, Leonard’s moans turn into surprised cries, and the grip Leonard has on his hair gets tighter. “Jim, please, you keep doing that and I’m finished.”

Jim smirks, halting his movements and gently taking out his fingers. Drawing Leonard’s mouth in for one more kiss before ducking his head, Jim lifts Leonard’s arm off his shoulder and steps back, leaving Leonard’s line of sight to pick up something off of the desk.

Leonard turns back to Spock, committing Spock’s blushing face to memory as he kisses him with his fingers, pressing their palms together and clasping their hands tightly. Spock switches his gaze back to Leonard’s eyes, shifting so that his thigh is no longer between Leonard’s, then speaks softly. “Come closer, Leonard.”

He complies, letting Spock guide him as he edges forward until their hips are fully touching. Spock unfurls his thumb from around Leonard’s dick to wrap it around his own, holding their shafts in a single grip and giving them a quick stroke. Leonard sighs at the contact.

That warmth returns to his back as Jim rejoins them, snaking an arm around Leonard’s middle and holding his body close. The dress is pulled up over his hips, the fabric bunching up in the front and curtaining behind Spock’s fingers.

Jim pulls the blue underwear down from Leonard’s thighs and lets them fall to the ground.

“You ready?” Jim asks, the head of his dick positioned against Leonard’s hole. He nods, swallowing in anticipation, and Jim mumbles by his ear, “Bend your knees a little more.”

Leonard does, and then Jim slowly pushes inside.

_Good god._

The noise Jim makes is nearly a sob, his hot breath seeping through the dress as he rests his cheek against Leonard’s shoulder blade. Inhaling deeply, as if he were desperate for air, Leonard flattens his free hand onto the wall beside Spock’s head for support. Spock leans his head forward to kiss him, untangling their fingers so he can hold Leonard’s nape.

Leonard moans into Spock’s mouth, his features twisting into a grimace caught between pleasure and discomfort. 

Gradually, after what feels like ages, Jim’s hips are flush against Leonard’s, their bodies pressed so closely together that it would be impossible to go any further. Leonard relaxes, sighing through his nose at feeling so thoroughly filled. Spock separates from the kiss and the three of them wait for a signal to start moving.

After a few long moments, Leonard gives the signal with a roll of his pelvis. Jim wraps his other arm around Leonard and pulls his hips back with a low groan, the sound vibrating into Leonard’s spine. Leonard finds the hand Jim has settled over his heart and intertwines his fingers with it, clenching onto him desperately.

Then Jim pushes inside again and Leonard is sure he’s become completely pliable, malleable to any and all of Spock and Jim’s pressures.

While Jim searches for a steady rhythm, Leonard and Spock dance their tongues against each other, lightly clinking into each other’s teeth when they get a bit too carried away. Then, as Jim’s grinding grows progressively faster, Spock decides to begin moving as well.

In time with Jim’s thrusts, Spock runs his hand along the length of his and Leonard’s shafts, his own breathing becoming erratic. He breaks the kiss to settle his forehead against Leonard’s, their panting breaths intermingling. Leonard’s legs quiver, the air getting trapped in his throat as it catches onto every whimper that escapes his body.

Caught between the two of them, the only thing Leonard can do is to simply give in to it all, arching into Jim’s almost suffocatingly tight hold around his waist and using the wall as a crutch just to stay upright. 

There’s a slap of skin on skin as their thighs meet with each thrust, the sound fitting comfortably in the cacophony of sex in the small quarters. They’re being too loud, Leonard’s certain, but cannot bring himself to care as the pleasure coils up inside him like a tightened drum.

Everything seems so amplified — the heat of Jim inside him, the rough texture of Spock’s hand, the humidity of their breaths that scatter across his skin, the comforting embrace of the cotton nightgown, the torrent of emotions that belong to minds that aren’t his own — that each little detail is too transfixing to focus on one at a time.

He feels like he’s drowning.

It doesn’t take long before Jim’s movements are shaky, his gasping getting throatier and louder. Leonard feels it, too, already on the plateau and close to falling off the edge as Jim hits the same area over and over in his insides.

“Spock.” The word comes out croaky. Speaking is difficult — his mind flooded with so much else that he can hardly do anything — but he manages to say “I’m...” before a cry tumbles out of him.

He doesn’t need to say any more for Spock to understand. His hand speeds up, squeezing harder, and after just a few more strokes it’s enough for Leonard to choke on his own moans in a silent shout, for his body to go stiff as he comes.

Spock carries him through his orgasm, cloudy fluid spurting onto his torso and fingers as he continues stroking, his own hips bucking upward as he feels himself reaching his limit.

Jim keeps going yet only barely, his angle unchanging and his thrusts hitting harder. He’s almost there at the apex, and the desire to reach it screams through the telepathic bond.

Guiding Leonard’s head to rest onto his shoulder, Spock reaches out to touch Jim, to skim his fingers across even just slightly over Jim’s skull. He brushes against the soft spot of Jim’s temple and that small bit of contact is enough for their pleasure to merge as it had with Leonard.

Within moments they’re finished, Jim coming with a stifled cry into Leonard’s dress, Spock with a mute but fiery spasm shooting through his body.

Panting, electrified, and increasingly tired, the triad stand in the afterglow, huddled in a tangle of limbs as they catch their breath. For a while, they stay there — unmoving, cradling one another, wanting to soak in the air of contentment surrounding them before they inevitably have to part.

Jim is the first to move, pulling out with care, and the others follow suit as they unfold from their embrace.

Leonard rises from his resting place on Spock’s shoulder, placing a kiss on his — as he would often affirm — pointed ear before looking between them. Spock lets go of their softening dicks, the ejaculate on his hand already thickened and pearly white.

A blotch on the garter belt, however, catches Leonard’s attention. “Oh, no,” he murmurs, unraveling his fingers from Jim’s to touch the paneled belt. “I ruined your pretty clothes.”

“You need not worry, Leonard,” Spock reassures, voice still a bit husky. “This material is resistant to staining.” Using his clean hand, Spock tucks his penis back into his sheath, pushing onto it until it disappears behind the black of his underwear. Leonard cringes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, if only because it looks painful to do.

Spock opens his mouth again once he’s done. “I must make my way to the restroom to tidy myself. Will you two join me or shall I bring a wet washcloth?”

Jim finally speaks up, his arms settling a little lower around Leonard’s middle to rest at his waist. “I’m fine with the washcloth.” He doesn’t bother to raise his head and when Leonard looks over his shoulder to look at him, all he sees is mussed, brown hair.

He turns to face Spock again. “Make that two.”

Spock tilts his head. “Very well.”

They back up to give Spock space to slip away from being pinned to the wall, walking toward the bathroom with more energy and wakefulness than his two humans partners combined. _Damn that Vulcan metabolism,_ Leonard muses.

The footsteps fade into the swish of the restroom door. Jim and Leonard stay there for a bit longer, Leonard resting his hands on the arms coiled around his body, Jim swaying the two of them side to side as he lets out a happy hum. “Was it good?” he asks.

Leonard rolls his eyes. The tone of the question is downright cheeky, Jim clearly already knowing the answer. Just because they’re not telepaths doesn’t mean the bond disintegrates the moment Spock leaves the room.

“I think the moment I started begging was when I declared it good,” he drawls, sleep weighing his whole being down. The thought of curling up in bed — not on his lonesome for the first time in days — sounds like pure heaven.

Jim chuckles warmly at that, lifting his head from its spot on Leonard’s back. “I’m glad. I did say that I wanted to spoil you.”

“Yeah, you two definitely accomplished that.”

Jim pulls back from the embrace, running his hands down Leonard’s arms. “Let me go grab the mattress,” he says, pressing a kiss behind Leonard’s ear before going into the bedroom area. Leonard watches him as he goes, noting when he pauses to slip the condom off and tie it closed, then tossing it into the small bin by the bathroom door.

Leonard takes a deep breath and lets go of it slowly, moving to sit down on the nearby swivel chair with quivering legs. Once he settles into the seat, he notices the pair of briefs lying on the floor. Reaching down to pick them up, he isn’t sure if he should put them on or not before deciding to put them in the gift box with the rest of his clothes.

Jim returns quickly with the folded inflatable mattress. “Would you like help?” Leonard asks, feeling overcome with sleepiness now that he’s sat down.

“With pushing a button, Bones? I’m sure I can handle it,” Jim replies, tossing the felt-covered plastic on the ground and pressing the button on top with his toe. He steps back as it unfolds and inflates itself instantaneously, filling out the floorspace of the office area almost entirely.

Finding a spare bed that would both fit three people adequately and also be small enough for the limited space of the captain's quarters was a challenge, but the day they found it was a joyous one. It isn’t the most comfortable thing in the galaxy, but it works for them.

Jim once joked in the midst of looking for such an inflatable mattress that if Starfleet ever decided to retrofit the Enterprise for another tour, he would have to make a special requisition order for a captain’s quarters large enough to accommodate a king-sized bed.

Leonard immediately made a quip that he’d sooner perform surgery on an angry Gorn who was pregnant with quintuplets than suffer through five more years in space.

Spock, meanwhile, suggested they continue the discussion at another time when they did not have ambassadors on board and awaiting them in the debriefing room, straightening his dress uniform in the confines of the supply closet.

Regardless, they could hold out with the air mattress just fine.

The bathroom door opens and Spock emerges wearing only the black thong, one hand holding a pile of damp washcloths and the other clutching the stockings and garter belt rolled into a tidy bundle. He offers a cloth to Jim, then steps onto the air mattress and offers the other one to Leonard.

They wipe themselves off — Leonard paying particular attention to his hands, mostly out of doctor's habit — and when Leonard’s done, Jim takes the cloth from him to the bathroom to be soaped up, rinsed, and hung to dry.

“You appear to be greatly exhausted, Leonard,” Spock remarks, kneeling down beside him and resting a hand atop Leonard’s knee. The gesture is so kind, so vulnerable that, just a year or so ago, Leonard never would have imagined Spock doing something with such human colors of intimacy. Spock and intimacy were concepts that seemed impossible to merge.

Spock is full of surprises, though, and every new discovery is like uncovering diamond in a dark cavern, hidden beneath thick rock and left to those with the stubbornness and grit to reveal it. To be allowed to see him bared and emotional is one of the greatest honors he has ever been given.

He laughs quietly, patting Spock’s hand with his own. “You two did a number on me,” he murmurs, his eyelids falling drowsily. “I could fall asleep right now, sitting up like this.”

“That would hardly be a restive sleeping position.” Even with his eyes closed, Leonard can tell Spock has his eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“Okay,” calls Jim’s voice from the doorway of the bathroom. “Who wants to sleep in the middle?”

Leonard opens his eyes and looks over at the source of the shout. Jim stands with his toes touching the edge of the bed, carrying a large red blanket against his chest in a crumpled bunch. Shifting his gaze between Spock and Leonard, he drops the blanket onto the mattress and it sits as an indistinguishable lump of cloth.

Finally taking the moment to scan Jim up and down, Leonard notes how remarkably soft Jim looks in the gentle cream robe, the sleeves large and spacious around his thick arms and making him appear nothing short of comfy. Leonard bats his eyes. “Weren’t you going to model for us, Jim?”

Jim’s beaming smile returns to his face and he chuckles, playing along by putting his hands on his hips and doing a brief spin. The tie around his waist accentuates his figure quite well. “To be honest, I had completely forgotten about that.”

“Fortunate that I remembered, then.” Leonard turns back to Spock and rubs the back of his hand. “You did good, Spock.”

Spock tips his head at the praise, the invisible equivalent of Vulcan pride seeping through his hand on Leonard’s knee. He then faces his captain. “Jim, I suggest Leonard sleeps in the middle as he is already near slumber, as well as the occasion of tonight having been to ‘spoil’ him.”

Jim nods his head, reaching for the switches behind him to dim the lights down to near dark. He speaks softly, sensitive to the whittling energy in the room. "I agree. What do you want, Bones?"

Leaning sideways until he's practically doubled over and resting his temple on top of Spock's head, he mumbles, "I want to sleep."

Jim's grin grows gentle, his expression so full of love.

That's another thing Leonard still has difficulty believing: being on the receiving end of such a warm gaze after so many years of being deprived of it, and staring back to see it from Jim — who he had watched give others the same look on several gut-wrenching occasions — is downright astonishing at times.

Everything is an adjustment.

"That's fair," Jim laughs, grabbing the blanket by whatever corners he can find and spreading it atop the mattress just enough to cover most of it. After, he goes around the corner for a moment to grab a pair of pillows stacked against his nightstand, taking the one from his own bed as well.

Spock carefully stands up, being sure not to knock skulls with Leonard as he does. Leonard follows suit, waiting for Jim to set the pillows down before climbing into the bed.

Leonard lies down onto his back, ready to let sleep take hold of him as soon as his head hits the pillow. While Jim quietly doublechecks the lock on the door, Spock settles onto his side at Leonard's right, resting a hand over the dip below his ribcage.

Soon, Jim slips underneath the cover with them, pulling the blanket up to his and Leonard's hips, Spock bringing it to his chest to stay warm. Jim curls his body against Leonard's, laying his head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm across his waist.

The room falls silent, the ambient hum of the Enterprise the only noise to be heard.

As Leonard lets his mind slip into unconsciousness, he sinks into the bed, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by the two he couldn't imagine this ridiculous, dangerous, awe-inspiring life in space without, and perhaps the soft touch of cotton around his hips, as well.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. Lingerie is one of my favorite things and for years I've wanted to include it in something of mine, yet never took the chance of writing a piece about it for fear of not pulling it off correctly. The idea of Bones wearing a baby blue dress that matched his baby blue eyes was too irresistible, however.
> 
> I did not have a beta reader for this piece, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! Any kind of feedback is wonderful, be it kudos or comments. If you'd like to share this on tumblr, you can reblog this post [here](https://offdensen.tumblr.com/post/150240302091/). ♡


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